So.... what happened?

I have been woefully and hopelessly absent from this blog since I moved to London over two years ago.  I checked in on my blog today and to my shock, was amazed to see that there are people still reading it and coming across it. :)  So for those of you who have been kind enough to ask...

I GOT MARRIED IN DECEMBER.  TO A BRIT.  WHO I MET IN LONDON.

It took me five months to meet him (August 2011), but meet him I did.  We met on OK Cupid.  We talked for a month before we met in person (I was working way too much).  By the second date he'd asked me to be his girlfriend.  He came home to LA to meet my family that Christmas, and six months later he proposed.

I'm going to write the whole story down - promise.  But if you're reading this and you're single and sad about it - there's so much hope out there.  The right one is coming.  I swear.  Sending you love.  :) 

What to pack...

A couple of weeks ago I read a book on attracting my soul mate. One of the book's central premises was that one should act "as if" their soul mate had already arrived. It makes sense- I was given the same advice for logical things like pretending I knew what it meant to be an attorney and to act the part when I was interviewing at law firms, despite nearly crying from nervousness. The book suggested things like setting a place at the table for your nearly-arrived love. All I could think of was that I'd have to wash twice as many dishes without getting a single Friday night out in the process. But maybe it is worth trying.

Today I'm Packing for London. I have a limited amount of suitcase space, but I've been toying with the idea of putting the soul mate suggestions into practice. What to do? Take the oversized T-shirts I really want to sleep in? Or bring cute little slip nightgowns and at least one pair of black thigh-highs? Do I take an extra pair of earrings or bring Magnum prophylactics, you know, so I'll have something for "him" to wear when he arrives in my flat? Or maybe bringing Magnums is putting the hope a little high - maybe I should just ask the universe for a basic Trojan man and hope for the best.

There's a great scene in "Must Love Dogs" where the hot and heavy couple realize they have no protection, then go to a gas station, grocery store and a couple of drug stores before finally finding what they need, only to realize the moment had passed. I can't have that! Besides, I won't have a car, so getting to grocery stores and gas stations via the subway system sounds even less sexy than trying to find condoms with the aid of a car. But doesn't it seem a little crazy to use precious luggage space for a latex balloon that may come right back with me at the end of the trip? I'll feel it mocking me as I return, "Haha! You know I expire next month, right?!"

But what if my this stuff works? Surely, if tomorrow when I land in London and go into work, a tall Brit with blue eyes and a knowledge of good pinot noirs walks over to meet me, I'd be thrilled that I brought my hopelessly impractical all-lace panties, as opposed to the comfy cotton ones best suited for Sunday afternoons and sessions on the eliptical machine. I'm scheduled to work 12 hours a day, six days a week once I get to London. That hardly leaves time for shopping for nighties that push, pull, cover and accentuate in all the right places, so that candlelight can cast lovely hour-glass shadows as opposed to a paunchy, saggy one.

I decided to bring it all. I mean really, a little lace, satin, silk and latex doesn't take up that much space, and in the end may make me feel sexier, which in turn might help my chances at finding a bloke to bring back to my flat. Perhaps that's what all the acting "as-if" does in the end- it helps you get where you're inevitably going -and for me, that's London. Tally ho!

This City is Haunted

I was in the most haunted city in America this past weekend. No, I wasn't in New Orleans or visiting former slave quarters in the deep South. I was in Las Vegas. Ghosts of gangsters past you ask? Slain show girls? Hookers with a heart of gold bludgeoned over drug money? Nope- this city, like the poorly reviewed Matthew McConaughey movie, was haunted with the ghosts of boyfriends past.

Even though they're still alive, they're (mostly) dead to me. But their spirit lives on. My ex lived in Las Vegas for a year, so I know the city inside and out. While in Sin City, I planned a formal dinner for my family at a restaurant that I loved. As soon as I arrived I could feel his energy. We'd fallen in love there over a six course chef's tasting menu with wine pairings (the wine facilitated the falling in love part). Like incense, the smell of the restaurant flooded me with the memory of our conversation there- discussing where in the world we wanted to travel. His top choice was London. He was English by blood and wanted to go. We never did. Ironically, two years from that fateful dinner, I was back in that same restaurant, assigned to go to London, where he would not be joining me.

The ghosts haunt us in dreams. My family member roomie on the Las Vegas trip woke up on Friday morning having dreamed of her ex. Seeing his visage in her mind brought back so many emotions- fear, anger, loathing, sadness, regret - it's amazing that an apparition brought about by the sub-conscious can still have so much power. She didn't even see him or hear from him - but his ghost still lives in her memory, ready to pounce on her as a nightmare with Metallica's "Enter Sandman" playing as the soundtrack.

I've Taken These Pictures Before. We went on a day trip to the Grand Canyon from Las Vegas, the exact same excursion I'd taken with a different boyfriend and his parents four years prior. As I stood on the lookout, I was reminded that this picture exists somewhere else- with me four years younger and ten pounds heavier, my arms around a man who wraps his arms around his fiance now. No wonder I lost it coming home from the craps tables at two in the morning the last night of the trip. I've heard when people see ghosts they often tremble, scream or cry. I know I did all three.

The Only Cure is to Release the Ghost. Like any good psychic or badly acted show on the Sci Fi network would tell you, the only way out is to tell the ghost to go into the light - to release it from its earth-bound life to the otherside. Maybe some of our ghosts go to hell- I can imagine a couple I'd like to send there. But mostly, I'd like to be free of them. Exes of the world, I release you, and hope in turn, you release me. I'd like to go back to Vegas soon- and I'd appreciate it if no ghosts, only Lady Luck, would accompany me next time.

Would I Do This If I Weren't Single?

"It's so great you're single! Otherwise you never would have done this!" my mother gushed. Was she right? Of course. She's rarely wrong, particularly when it comes to me. Four years ago I spent a semester in Australia because my boyfriend at the time was adament we go. I wanted to go to of course, but giving up our apartment, putting everything into storage, giving up my scholarship to the law school I attended and then taking on $30,000 in debt for one semester of school? I knew that made ZERO financial sense. But love took me with him. Now I pay $450 a month in student loans for the next ten years just for that one semester of law school. I think of him every time I hear the line in "F*ck You," "Cause being in love with your ass ain't cheap."

I've Based Many Decisions on Love. I'm single right now, and have been for about six months. I'm bored. I'm craving adventure. I need a distraction or a reinvention. I was in the elevator at work last week when someone I didn't know described the case he'd just been assigned to that was taking him to London for five months. I darted back to my office and aggressively pursued the opportunity, banging down the door of the partner in charge, hiking up my skirt-- wait, that was Saturday, not Wednesday --- I hiked out my legal resume and the partner agreed to add me to the case. I was Europe-bound.


"It's Destiny." That was the next thing my mother said. If, say, the guy from Waiting hadn't kept me waiting by the phone until I was severely dehydrated and hallucinating him in a mirage-like-state in my living room, I may not have been as eager to go. If I'd been in a relationship last week? I'd probably have made excuses in my mind, allowing myself to not be vulnerable in a different way - to the major partners at the law firm, who frequently reject advances from junior attorneys for plum assignments and trips to other parts of the world. I probably would have thought, "Oh, good for Junior B. That's so cool for him," gotten out of the elevator, microwaved my Lean Cuisine, and never thought of it again.


But no - instead, on my half birthday (32 1/2) I found myself packing and buying six months of food and rawhides for my dogs, who will be watched by a full-time pet sitter who is moving into my guest bedroom Saturday.


Maybe it is Destiny. Maybe the love of my life is British? Will he be more Colin Firth? (From Bridget Jones, the handsome barrister - God I love that English lawyers are called Barristers- so much fancier than "lawyer") Or more Hugh Grant - sexy, silly, outrageous (minus the cheating please)? I'm no American stick insect, but I am American, "something about confidence and all." If the previous paragraph made no sense to you, you may want to rent "Bridget Jones Diary" - aka best movie ever.

I'm about to go live my Bridget Adventure. Granted I'll be spending 12 hours per day, six days a week in a conference room, but at least the room overlooks Big Ben. And the guy in the elevator coming with me? He's awfully cute. Maybe two Americans can fall in love abroad. I'm sure it would't be the first time. Cheers!

An American in London

Ladies and gentlemen, I will post shortly (as soon as work permits) but for the sake of my own excitement I must let you know that I have been assigned to my firm's London office for the next four to six months. I leave Saturday. The blog will turn to international love this upcoming week. Let's see if I can't find a nice bloke to hook up with shall we?

I feel so Bridget Jones. Today I turn 32 1/2 - no really- it's my half birthday. This is quite a present and quite a way to spend the later half of my thirty-second year being single. I can hardly wait!

On and Off in Three Minutes Flat

"Danny from Los Angeles has answered your five questions!" Oooh - yay! Somebody likes me! Whoo hoo! But wait, something was wrong. The "Next Step" gave me only one option- "Close Match." The options usually include "send must haves" and "email." Huh? I'm so confused.

This guy answered my inquiry, then immediately shut down communication. It was like we'd gone through an entire relationship in five minutes. First the intrigue of reading the profile, with the simple joy that an attractive person was in the photos. We've read the same books! We like to go to movies and concerts! We've both dreamed of a destination wedding in the Mayan Riviera! OK, that part wasn't in the profile. But still! Apparently then he looked again and started to see the flaws. Maybe in my third picture I looked 5 lbs. heavier. Maybe I like Thai food and he hates spice. Maybe I live 2 miles farther than he likes to drive to see a girl. All cracks in the armor. Then he looked again and decided that I'm not worth it. Whatever spark we had was snuffed out, and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.

How did I manage to both turn him on and off so quickly? Did he accidentally click on my profile to answer the ice breakers, only to come back and think, "Crap! I didn't mean to write the dog-loving lawyer!?! I meant to write the actress/model/bartender who loves the smell of cigarettes because they help her not eat! Abort! Abort! Don't let the professional chick think I like her!" CLOSE MATCH.

Is it really that easy to decide you don't like someone? Maybe. I came across a profile that was going well, until I reached the part where he said, "I'm part Mexican, but I don't speak Spanish. I do however, garden and do lawn work really well ese." Sheesh- do yourself a favor and avoid racism in your profile. Every once in awhile I come across someone I think I like until a deal breaker comes up. Yesterday the guy was doing amazing until, "I have full time custody of my twin preteens." Bless him, but honestly, I don't think I'm ready for full time teen motherhood. Next.

Whatever it was that I said, I'm sorry. Danny in Los Angeles, our profiles had a brief three minutes of intense and passionate connection, followed by the inevitable decay of a relationship that will never get off the computer screen. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. As for me, I'll do the only thing Eharmony will let me do - Close Match. Too bad- I actually really liked your answers to my questions.

Facebook Status

Status: Single. Status: In a Relationship. Status: Engaged to. Status: Married to. Status -- that's quite a term to use actually - status of course can mean how one is feeling or what one is doing right now, but another use of the word means prestige. Many single women I know feel less prestigious or worthy than their paired-up counterparts - as if the validation of a man or relationship says that they are now better than they were pre-relationship. I usually think my paired-up friends have a better status than I do.

I currently have no relationship status on Facebook. This is on purpose. I listed myself "in a relationship" when I joined Facebook three years ago or so. After the break up, all I wanted to do was hole up with both Ben and Jerry under a blanket while listening to songs about puncturing the lungs of my ex. I changed my status from "in a relationship" to nothing. That's how I felt anyway- my emotional void was mirrored by my relationship status void. I thought no one would notice. I was wrong. Suddenly I was bombarded with public commentary asking what went wrong. My ex called to yell at me for outting our breakup- something he wasn't ready to do either.

So I learned my lesson. In my next relationship, I never changed my status from void to "in a relationship." I continued to be a big black box. Except of course, that I changed my picture to one of us snuggling up at a football game, and posted pictures of us frolicking next to the dolphins in Cancun and on a hot air balloon ride. One day, anyone who'd been paying attention would notice that none of those pictures were there anymore.

We broke up six months ago. I was at a party this weekend where two acquaintances were shocked when I described myself as single. After I explained the whole had-another-girlfriend-in-another-city thing, their first question was (and I'm not kidding) - "Why didn't you post anything on Facebook?" Why? Well, posting, "[ex] was banging Susan in Vegas for the past several months. Avoid him like the plague and send chocolate if you want to encourage me to live," seemed a little extreme - especially since current co-workers and at least two of my high school friend's mothers are my Facebook friends.

In the end I'm sure there are many Facebook friends of mine who are certain that ex and I are still together. Ironically I found out my first ex had poppoed the question when I asked our mutual friend how he was doing and his response was, "Well, he changed his Facebook status to engaged..."

My status is still void. Maybe someday someone will help me change it to "engaged to," but I'm not changing to "in a relationship" - that status seems much to volatile for me to voluntarily assign to myself.